


there's nothing here but what's mine

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: again we wander, we love, we separate again [9]
Category: Smallville
Genre: 30 Minute Fic, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Kryptonian, Lex Knows Clark's Secret, M/M, No Angst, POV Alternating, Secret Messages, Writing on Skin, the barn loft of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 14:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11761437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: Tonight, the moon paints the loft in silver and velvety black as Clark pins Lex down (willingly, always willingly).As he marks him.





	there's nothing here but what's mine

 

Clark writes. 

He traces words in a language Lex is still learning. The pad of his finger trails along a shoulder blade, swooping around to form a lopsided circle and Lex shivers. The loft is chilly with his shirt off but his skin feels hot under Clark's touch. 

Autumn in Smallville brings a shimmering night sky and shades of orange and yellow. Almost golden in the sunset. Tonight, the moon paints the loft in silver and velvety black as Clark pins him down (willingly, always willingly). As he marks him. 

A straight line down the notches of his spine stopping just above his waistline. Lex moans, arching under callused hands. Clark is straddling his hips from the back, knees bracketing him in place. 

"Be still," Clark whispers, lips against his ear. 

"If you want me to be still, you shouldn't touch me like that."

"If you move I'll have to start over," Clark teases, resuming his slow torture. 

Lex groans against the worn couch, cheek against the fabric. Clark Kent is a cruel cruel person. 

"Why won't you tell me what you're writing?"

More shapes over freckles and muscle, drifting over and around.

"It's a surprise."

Along the nape of Lex's neck and back down to his ribcage. His teeth catch on his bottom lip as Clark murmurs to himself, breath heated as he leans in to inspect his masterpiece. Clark kisses the words, the language of his people. It's sacred, it's Lex's birthday, it's a message. 

They're both breathing hard when he finishes.

"Okay."

"What does it say?"

Clark blankets him, flannel against sensitive bare skin. "It says," he begins nervously, "It says  _I love you, Lex._ In the future, in the past, where we are right now." 

No one has ever loved Lex, not really. Nor have they touched him with such reverence. Clark is the best gift he has ever been given. Hot tears prick his eyes as he turns over, caged by Clark's arms. This love is tangible, written in Kryptonian on his skin. Written in their lives before this one. Fate, destiny, legends on cave walls and a softer landing.

He reaches up and touches everything he has ever wanted. Everything he wished for as the sky rained down in a Kansas cornfield. 

 

 

_Somebody love me._

 

 

"I'm so ridiculously in love with you Clark," he whispers. 

Alien, human, mortal or god. Marching in the streets of Greece hand in hand, on Mt Pelion as they kiss for the first time, in a straw scented loft on a lumpy couch. When their lips meet, the sky does not fall down. When Lex tugs Clark's shirt over his head and marks his skin with purple sucking kisses, the stars align.

 

Fate rewrites their story. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (for clarity, the age of consent in Kansas is 16 but Clark is almost 18 here)


End file.
